


never invite me over again- just kidding, please do, i really wanna hang out with you

by summer_rising



Series: ichor flows free amongst the iron [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: "ah yes this halfbaked excuse is totally trustworthy. thank u wilbur", Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Basically, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Chapter Two Tags, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Fluff, Gen, No Respawn AU, Not Beta Read, i'll prolly fix the mistakes by reading over it again in the morning rip, it's late again so thats my excuse for mistakes, n then wilbur stabs schlatt, schlatt and wilbur have a political meeting, this fic in my docs is called "sir calm your hooves", tommy is oblivious as always, wilbur gets his busted nose fixed by an inexperienced child, yknow the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26889343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summer_rising/pseuds/summer_rising
Summary: “Well then,” Schlatt said, steepling his fingers and resituating so he could lean forwards, “Shall we begin?”“Let’s. What to start with?”“Hmm… Well, you’ve been requesting a Visa renewal for Tommy, correct? Let’s start from there.”“Yes, I have.” Wilbur took another sip. Talking about Tommy deserved a little buzz. Kid frustrated the shit out of him with how much danger he got himself into. “He used up his old one showing Mr. Belvins around, correct?”Schlatt shrugged. “Yes, he did, but from what I heard, he managed to get himself another one from George after George accidentally got married to Blevins.”“Fucking… what?”//President J. Schlatt and (Ex-) President Wilbur Soot meet in private to negotiate a few things. It ends in a stabbing. Politics, man.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: ichor flows free amongst the iron [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960261
Comments: 33
Kudos: 524





	1. water

**Author's Note:**

> okay so there is actually a warning for this one lmao- wilbur just deadass stabs schlatt multiple times n they roll around fistfighting for a bit and ALSO drink some whiskey so watch out for that stuff!! the drinking is throughout but the fighting is at the end, oop.
> 
> somehow my last fic got more hits than the one before it,,,,,, i wonder what it is. maybe its bc my last fic didn't have dream tagged?? lmaofeifdhikewhkfhskf
> 
> ANYWHO special thanks to every single one of you mfers who has commented or left kudos. u make my world and im love u. kisses for u no romo!!
> 
> (i keep forgetting to mention what songs the titles are from-  
> we think so then and we thought so still is from Pelicans We by Cosmo Sheldrake  
> you are a monster from hell is from Michelle by Sir Chloe  
> i'm really ironically pissed right now is from I Threw Glass at My Friend's Eyes and Now I'm on Probation by Destroy Boys  
> this fic's title is ALSO from I Threw Glass at My Friend's Eyes and Now I'm on Probation by Destroy Boys)

Wilbur had a very love-hate relationship with the water.

He remembered the floods that wiped out the old civilizations. He remembered the infinite blue expanse that hid the temples they had built, dousing the portals and leaving them in ruin, drowning the many souls that hadn’t gotten to the highest ground they could find in time. He remembered trembling next to another boy, one with cloven feet that he tried to hide in big shoes and fuzzy white legs that he tried to hide under black slacks, the two of them gripping their hands together as tight as they could as they watched wave after wave after wave crash against the ground miles below them, hoping and praying that it wouldn’t reach the tiny shelter they had made for themselves.

He remembered waking up in the middle of the night to a blood-curdling scream from near the cliffside, only lasting long enough to wake him up before it was snuffed out by the blue. He remembered throwing himself out of bed, heart pounding hard enough to make him dizzy as nauseating anxiety crawled up his throat, opening the door and rushing outside to find nothing but the top of a suit jacket bunched up and torn, about to slip off the edge like its owner had.

He remembered the fizzing of the water and the icy chill stinging his burns as he was flung down into its depths when the bombs had gone off. He remembered fighting desperately against the murky lake, unable to tell if it was fire or blood or his own straining eyes that turned it red, unable to tell if his eyes were stinging from the grime and shrapnel floating around or if it was just his urge to break down, remembers almost giving up until he had felt a brush of hair and managed to catch a glimpse of fluffy blonde hair and bugged-out eyes and knew that if he didn’t save himself, he would at least need to try and save Tommy. He might’ve been able to come back, but Tommy couldn’t.

He also had a few good memories with the water. He remembers, vaguely, little hands splashing around in it while Phil scrubbed the dirt out of his hair despite his protests. He remembers a very slightly younger Techno watching him with a smirk as he picked Wilbur up and chucked him straight into the lake to try and teach him to swim while Phil was out on an expedition. He remembers her. The river nymph who had given him Fundy. He doesn’t remember as much about her as he thinks he should, but he remembers enough. He remembers dark hair in thick princess curls, he remembers green eyes like a puddle of algae, he remembers soft fingers, he remembers a silk dress. He forgot most everything else after she left.

His relationship with water is probably more of a hate relationship than a love one, to be honest.

Rain counted as water and he, therefore, kind of hated it. It was the rain that had flooded the world, after all. He really should’ve seen that as a sign that this meeting was going to go terribly, but he was focusing more on how obnoxious the pitter-patter of it was against the roof of the Manberg White House than what was definitely a warning from another god to save his dignity and mental health while he still had the chance.

He really wished he had had more time to convince Techno into lending him his coat, Wilbur mourned as he let his hood drop and shook off his hands. The gloves had torn at the bottom seams and the fingers had needed to be cut off, and now they were soaked through and through as well. Same went for his coat. He had really liked that jacket, too, it had gone well with the whole hobo-in-the-woods gig he had going on right now. His beanie was perfectly fine, as always. Thank the stars that chosen items were always protected, otherwise, he would have had to get rid of his a long time ago.

Too focused on making sure he was dry in the places he needed to be, he didn’t notice the doors to the building had opened until Schlatt boomed, “ _ Wilbur _ , my man! Come on in! Let me take your coat, wouldn’t want you dripping water all over the floors, yeah? They just got cleaned the other day!” He stepped out onto the stairs just long enough to be in Wilbur’s line of sight before he was ushering him inside, chattering the whole way. “Coat rack’s right there, just drop it off, you can get it again when we’re done- You up for drinks, by the way? I won’t if you won’t, but if you’re game, I am too! We got whiskey, beer, probably some vodka stashed away if we look hard enough, maybe margarita materials somewhere? Not sure at this point, Quack’s in charge of stock in here.”

“Whiskey sounds like a good idea right about now,” Wilbur replied, forcing in a snort. It wouldn’t be good to be a dick for this, but he couldn’t help the little bit of edge in his voice. Schlatt didn’t seem to care, though he definitely noticed.

“Alright then, let me go get that while you get settled in. Table’s in the corner, bathroom under the stairs- Stairs are blocked off, there’s a bedroom up there but we’re not sure who’s been usin’ it so we’ve just been ignoring it. Get comfy!” He clapped his hands together with a toothy grin before disappearing to get the drinks. Wilbur started after where he turned the corner before shrugging a bit and dropping down into the chair with its back against the wall. Doors in sight, check. Windows in sight, check. Multiple ways to get out, check. He was good.

A few moments of relative silence passed by (aside from the clinking of the glasses, a few muttered swears from Schlatt, and the rain on the roof) before the president returned, a platter of glasses and a freshly opened whiskey bottle balanced on top. “Bone app the teeth,” Schlatt said as he set it down with only mild clattering.

Wilbur’s chuckle was unintentional this time. “That’s not… It’s bon appetit, Schlatt.”

“Potato, potato-e, same difference,” Schlatt replied with a wave, “And it’s  _ President _ Schlatt.”

“Ah, yes. How could I ever have forgotten.”

Schlatt gave him a look that was clearly supposed to mean something that Wilbur could not decipher, but he didn’t have time to contemplate it before Schlatt uncapped the bottle and poured them both a hearty glass, picking the nearest one up once he had recapped it and lifting it up. “To hoping for a peaceful meeting,” He said. Wilbur eyed him warily before lifting his own glass as well. “To hoping for a peaceful meeting. Cheers.” Schlatt leaned his glass forward an inch to clink them together before settling back into his chair, clearly comfortable as he took a generous sip.

Wilbur made sure to watch Schlatt swallow it before he took his own sip. It didn’t taste off. Schlatt had drunk his own. It probably wasn’t poisoned. Probably. Still a chance Schlatt had taken an antidote beforehand or was going to take it soon. Or maybe this was just someone who could do a very good Schlatt impression that was willing to poison himself if it meant getting Wilbur. Well, jokes on them, he would just get right back up. That would give him away, though, and a lot of their current plans rode on him staying concealed in his status. Hmm.

“Well then,” Schlatt said, steepling his fingers and resituating so he could lean forwards, “Shall we begin?”

“Let’s. What to start with?”

“Hmm… Well, you’ve been requesting a Visa renewal for Tommy, correct? Let’s start from there.”

“Yes, I have.” Wilbur took another sip. Talking about Tommy deserved a little buzz. Kid frustrated the shit out of him with how much danger he got himself into. “He used up his old one showing Mr. Belvins around, correct?”

Schlatt shrugged. “Yes, he did, but from what I heard, he managed to get himself another one from George after George accidentally got married to Blevins.”

“Fucking…  _ what _ ?”

The president barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I had that same response when my VP came in my office to tell me he had officiated it. Said they gotta wait at least three months before they can divorce, so George decided to go along with the joke. Visa’s just for a few hours, and they have to do community labor ‘round here if they wanna use it, if I remember correctly.”

Wilbur’s head hurt. Another sip. “Jesus Christ… A few hours isn’t very long, though. What would I need to do to extend that time?”

Another shrug from Schlatt, this time a little less nonchalant, a little more forced. “I’ve heard rumors that you got your hands on Dream’s beloved crossbow. ‘S that true?”

The reaction was immediate- Wilbur narrowed his eyes and set his glass down on the table with a little clink. “I don’t know what you’ve heard or who you heard it from, but you really shouldn’t trust what they say. Would Dream really part with that thing for a group of ratty men living in the woods?”

“I don’t know, do  _ you _ think he might? Personally, I think that sounds  _ very  _ him.” Schlatt tilted his head to the side and crossed his legs. His eyes were unnerving. It wasn’t just the look he was giving Wilbur, analyzing and infuriatingly confident- His pupils were too flat. His irises were too gold. Something flashed in Wilbur’s mind’s eye, ichor dripping onto an ornate blue and silver rug, but then it was gone again.

Wilbur shook his head and picked his glass back up. He was giving Schlatt too much to work with. “Don’t trust everything you hear, Schlatt, you never know what kind of power someone’s words might have on you later on.” He pushed through the discomfort and steeled his gaze onto Schlatt’s eyes, raising his glass with his eyebrows raised as he took his first long gulp of the night.

That seemed to make something click for Schlatt. He went perfectly still for a moment before relaxing even more, taking another drink as well before refilling his glass. They both grinned sharp, thin grins at each other.

“Anything  _ else _ I might be able to do to get you to extend that Visa?”

“Maybe a little cash could convince me to… I dunno, forget to check in on the border with the woods in a few days.” Schlatt’s fingers on his right hand traced the rim of his glass while his other slipped into his pocket to pull out a little gold coin, flicking it and catching it mid-fall with practiced ease. His drink didn’t even wobble.

“I might be able to miraculously find a quarter stack of diamonds while I’m out later tomorrow. Plus I’ve already been meaning to make a Nether trip with Techno. I hear Skeppy is on the lookout for large amounts of quartz and is willing to pay some hefty sums for it.”

Schlatt sat there for a moment, flipping and catching his coin, until he nodded a few times, glancing off to watch the rain slam a flower in the windowbox down into the dirt. “Sounds good to me,” He said with a smirk.

“Perfect. I’ll make sure to get that to you. Let’s say… the next day after you get it we use up that Visa?”

“Works for me. Friday for the trade works best for me. That way you losers can see all your little friends on Saturday.”

“Alright then… What next?”

Schlatt held up a finger in the universal symbol of  _ hold on _ , knocking back the remainder of his drink and then gesturing for Wilbur to do the same. Slightly confused and ver wary, Wilbur complied. Schlatt refilled them both and then settled back down, ears slightly perked in that way they always were back on the mountaintop when the water started to rise again.

“I got somethin’ real important I gotta talk to you about, but it needs to be done very privately. You gotta swear on your mother’s grave or some shit that you’re not keeping any record of this and that no-one else is listening in.”

Schlatt was very much  _ not  _ kidding. Wilbur, now very nervous, let his hand drift to his hip where his iron sword rested, not bothering to hide it. “I swear to you that what it said in this room will not leave this room so long as you are doing the same.”

“Yeah, what happens in the White House stays in the White House.” His left ear flicked. His nose twitched. His hoof tapped the wood leg of the table a few times. “Now, this is not an accusation, but feel free to take it as one, Soot. What I’m gonna say will sound completely fucking crazy if I’m wrong, but I’m like 90% sure I’m not wrong.”

“Just get on with it, Schlatt,” Wilbur snapped.

“Are you a god?”

Wilbur  _ froze _ .

He had been subtle about it. He knew he had been. He had done  _ nothing _ to make anyone who didn’t already know suspect anything. Tommy might’ve seen him do something he shouldn’t have been able to do a few times, Tubbo might’ve noticed a gold stain or two, but that could easily be brushed off, especially if someone didn’t know that those were things to look for, Tommy was just as lucky as fucking  _ Dream _ and Tubbo came back with gold stains from Nether mining all the time, no normal person should’ve been able to tell-

...No normal person should’ve been able to tell.

“Are you?”

Schlatt’s teeth gleamed far too sharp for a man that was supposed to be half made up of a herbivorous animal. “I might be. I asked you first.”

“Real mature, Schlatt,” Wilbur hissed, a bead of sweat trickling down the back of his neck.

Schlatt chuckled. “So is deflection, Soot. Answer the damn question and I’ll respond.”

Wilbur stared him down. Schlatt did it right back. Gold eyes on brown. Fight and flight. It was too late to deny it, Wilbur had waited too long to respond and had been too vague in his answers, too defensive, Schlatt knew his answer, he just wanted to milk it out of him. Fucking prick.

“Yes.”

Schlatt laughed again, but it was harsher than the one from earlier. It was mocking and sharp while the other had just been teasing and firm. “ _ Finally _ ! Now was that so hard?”

“Your turn, Schlatt. Are you a god?”

“Yes, Wilbur, though I’m sure you had your suspicions. I mean, come on!” He flicked himself on the horns with a chuckle, eyes narrowed to slits. All Wilbur could see were those damn pupils. “You really think anything human would look like  _ this _ ?”

“...How long?”

“Hm?”

“ _ How long _ ?”

“Gonna need to be a bit more specific there, Willy.”

“How  _ fucking _ long have you been a god?”

Schlatt rolled his wrist. He was too calm. It was so fucking frustrating. Wilbur thought he might just combust. “Since I’ve existed, I’m pretty sure. Don’t remember anything before being the village freak who couldn’t die and bled gold!” He splayed his hands in a common  _ Boo! _ like gesture, cackling like a madman. He  _ was  _ a madman. Wilbur was sure of it. “Why? You tellin’ me some of us can get made instead of just popping into life?”

“I used to be human, I think.”

“You  _ think _ ? Jesus fuck, Wilbur, you can’t even tell if you were human beforehand or not?”

Wilbur was on his feet, hands slamming to the table before he could even think about what he was doing. “I  _ was  _ human! I was!”

“Touchy,  _ touchy _ !” Schlatt snarked, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Calm your tits, Soot, I’m just teasin’!”

“You’re a  _ dick _ , Schlatt, you know that, right?”

“Call me President Penis, what can I say. You’re not the first to call me a dick, don’t think you’re special.”

“Just…” Suddenly, Wilbur felt tired. So, so tired. He massaged the bridge of his nose to try and relieve some of the headache he felt starting to rear its head. “Just stop. We can be mature about this.”

Schlatt’s smile fell a bit as he dropped his hands back into his lap before it came back full-force. Their drinks had gone room-temperature by then. “So, how long have  _ you _ been a god, if that’s the case?”

“Since sometime after the floods, we think. Might’ve happened during. We aren’t sure.” A lie. It had happened about a century before the floods.

“We?”

Wilbur nodded but didn’t elaborate. Schlatt didn’t push. He wanted a different kind of information, apparently.

“So how much of the floods do you remember? Or the time before that?” There was an unknown tone in his voice that Wilbur couldn’t place. He didn’t trust it, not one fucking bit. He clearly wanted to know how much Wilbur knew of their time together in that other life. Wilbur wouldn’t give him anything if he could help it now.

“Nothing, really. That’s something they say happens a lot- Gods that get made instead of just popping up tend to forget their old lives over time. I got unlucky and fell into that group.” Wilbur shrugged and slumped into his seat, praying to Dream that he would get lucky enough to pull it off.

Schlatt’s smile  _ did _ fall at that. He tried to pull it back up, but it didn’t reach his eyes in the slightest. “That’s… interesting. Wonder if that’s what happened to me, too.” Lying straight through his teeth, but why?

“Why do you ask?”

“Dunno, just curious, I suppose. You never know what kind of information will end up useful in the future.”

“Cheers to that, mate,” Wilbur muttered as he picked up his long-discarded glass and drained it in one go. “What’re you gonna do now that you know, huh? Rat me out? Tell all of L’M- Tell all of Manberg? Half of them already know.” Another lie. He was getting good at this. Wilbur Soot, god of music and deceit. It had a nice ring to it. If-fucking-only.

“Not yet. Good blackmail material. I’m assuming Tommy doesn’t know, right? You obviously wanted this a secret, and if that kid knew, he’d’ve shouted to the whole world by now that he was best friends with a god. Sure would be a shame if he found out from  _ me _ , the man who exiled him, instead of from  _ you _ , the man he considers his older brother.”

Red flashed across Wilbur’s vision. The first rumbles of thunder began to roll outside the window. “Don’t you  _ dare _ bring Tommy into this, Schlatt,” He practically growled as he got to his feet once again. Schlatt let his head tilt to the left to look up at Wilbur’s furious face, lazily waving at him. “Another button to push, Will, you really gotta get that checked out. So  _ touchy. _ ”

“ _ You’re fucking threatening me! _ ”

“I can do a lot more than threaten, Soot, so I’d advise you sit your ass done before things get worse, yeah?”

Wilbur didn’t move. Schlatt did.

They were both standing now, Schlatt’s teeth all bared, brows furrowed, ears flattened. “Do you really want to do this?”

“We’re in private, aren’t we?” Wilbur replied lowly, “Not like there’s anyone around to see me beat your ass. No need to fear your precious reputation.”

“You’re in literal fucking rags, Wilbur, I have hooves and horns-”

“Did you forget this?” In the blink of an eye, a chipped sword was pressing right above Schlatt’s Adam’s apple. It was perfectly clean aside from the weather damage, but the smell of iron still drifted up to Schlatt’s nose. Whether it was blood or the sword itself was hard to tell. Maybe both. The two held eye contact. Both looked ready to absolutely bite each other.

Schlatt’s foot suddenly shot out underneath the table and clocked Wilbur in the knee, catching him off-guard and making him stumble backwards. His sword jerked, drawing a thin line across Schlatt’s neck, but the ichor would wash out. He wasn’t concerned.

Before Wilbur got a chance to stand upright, Schlatt had cleared the table, fists curled to give him a swift sock in the jaw. Wilbur grunted in surprise but quickly found a wall to stabilize himself on, lunging forwards with his sword to bury it in Schlatt’s side. Schlatt’s expression went murderous at the destruction of his nice suit, but Wilbur was already lifting his leg and kicking Schlatt in the hip to help pull his sword out, drawing a spurt of blood out with it. It splattered on the floor and their shoes. Neither noticed.

Schlatt panted, eyes wild, before he jumped forwards and tackled Wilbur around the middle. His wrist thumped harshly against the floor, he even thought he heard a crack, but it didn’t matter. It had been too fucking long since he had gotten a good fight and his body was glad for the excuse to pump adrenaline. Stradling Wilbur, he raised his clutched fists and slammed them down over the man’s face, hearing a satisfyingly loud crack, pulling his hand way with it covered in gold. 

Wilbur growled and swung from the left- Schlatt turned to catch it, so Wilbur used his right arm to take his sword and dig it into Schlatt’s back, leaving it in this time. Schlatt made a pained little noise, hunching over a bit. “ _ Backstabber _ ,” He hissed through gurgled pain. Wilbur barked in a poor mockery of a laugh and shot upwards from the ground, taking Schlatt with him.

They had switched positions now- Schlatt on his back, sword pierced straight through his body next to Wilbur’s knee, blood soaking the previously so pristine white floors. “So much for your floors staying clean, huh?” Wilbur panted, grinning down at Schlatt’s scrunched face through mussed curls. “ _ Fuck you _ ,” Schlatt spat back, blood and spit dribbling down his mouth. Wilbur may have gone a little overboard. He had just wanted a couple of flesh wounds, not to rip up his organs. Shame. 

“I thought you weren’t gay?” Wilbur returned with faux innocence. Schlatt hacked up a clump of blood onto his shirt. “Ew, gross, Schlatt.”

“Shut the fuck up,  _ you stabbed me _ .”

“You threatened me with blackmail.”

“Yeah, I sure did. I’m a politician, Wilbur, the fuck did you expect?”

“A civil conversation. Probably should’ve known better.”

“ _ Ya think? _ ”

Wilbur sneered down at him with a mocking shake of his head before getting to his feet. Schlatt did not attempt to get up, breath already turning to struggling wheezes. Wilbur kicked his body lightly until Schlatt gave in and rolled over onto his side so Wilbur could retrieve his sword. “Pleasure doing business with you, Schlatt. Is our Visa deal still on?”

“Yeah, it’s still fucking on, just don’t be surprised if I send Tubbo to steal a couple more diamonds from you.”

“Fair. Have a good death, Schlatt.”

“Fuck you too, Soot.”

The marble doors slammed shut. Wilbur’s coat was gone off the rack. Schlatt continued to bleed out on the floor. The rain kept pouring like nothing had happened.


	2. fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur comes home from JFKing the president. Tommy gets taught how to fix a broken nose. Techno gains a headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA, I DID INDEED WRITE A SECOND PART!! if this feels jumpy then i am very sorry, i was writing it between assignments and i don't plan out my chapters before i write them so it was just me rereading the pervious few sentences and then carrying on from there. wh oops.
> 
> anywho!!! yall rlly like sir tommyinnit huh. that's very soon abt to become my most viewed fic on this account ajksdhfkhsdf- well!! here is more mr innit!! pog
> 
> also,,, im thinking about writing smthn with the technocult next,,, what yall think about that :eyes:

Wilbur’s nose fucking  _ burned _ .

Schlatt had a damn good bit of strength, apparently. Wilbur’s nose was definitely broken. When he reached up to feel it, he could tell that it had shifted to a wildly different position than it should’ve been. Not the first time it had been broken out of place, but probably one of the worst times. Every time he tried to breathe through his nose, he ended up snorting a bit of blood, which,  _ gross,  _ plus it absolutely stung, but if he tried to breathe through his mouth, he just ended up with ichor dribbling into his mouth,  _ even more gross _ .

He had resolved to snap it back into place as soon as he dug out the entrance to Pogtopia’s little hole, but that plan was thrown off the rails when he broke through and was immediately confronted by Techno. The elder god was sitting on their communal orange cot, one leg over the other, sword balanced on his foot as he sharpened it methodically. He didn’t even look up as Wilbur entered. He didn’t need to. Wilbur was already sweating.

Techno never spoke first. Wilbur didn’t want to speak first. He also knew Techno was likely to stop him from leaving if he did anything except talk.

“...What’re you doing up here?” He started rather awkwardly, having trouble physically resisting the urge to wince.

Techno raised a very unamused brow, finally glancing up to examine Wilbur. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“Sh… Sharpening your sword?”

A heavy sigh. Techno stopped and set the whetstone to the side. “Waiting on you, dumbass. Clearly a good idea, seeing as how you come back lookin’ like that.” He gestured vaguely to Wilbur’s entire body. The music god frowned. 

“It’s not all mine,” He replied. A weak argument. They both knew it.

“Then who’d you fight? Better yet, where’d you go? You know wandering around anywhere near Manberg would just get us into more shit than we’re already in, so I know you didn’t go there.”

No answer.

“You didn’t.”

“I did.” Wilbur shuffled back and forth. “It was an invitation, though, so it’s fine!” He hurried to amend. Techno groaned and buried his face in his hands, rubbing his temple. “ _ Jesus _ , Wilbur.”

“What! Schlatt invited me to talk shit out!”

_ That _ got Techno’s attention. With an animalistic snort, he snapped his head up, rescanning Wilbur’s body, taking in the ichor splattered all over his front and collar as well as his twisted nose and frazzled hair. His hand drifted back to his sword. “And how did that meeting go?”

“Not… as bad as it could have. I kind of assassinated the president, but it turns out he’s also a god, so it’s all good. Tommy’s Visa’s gonna be extended so long as we pay Schlatt a few diamonds and grab him some quartz from the Nether. Schlatt’s not gonna rat me out as a god either. It’s all good. I got what I went there for.”

“...Hm.” A rather lackluster response for such an infodump, in Wilbur’s opinion, but he didn’t expect much out of Techno. “Let’s fix your nose. Bandages are in the chest outside of the farm. Not sure where Tommy is, so have an explanation ready if he pops up.”

“Got it,” Wilbur murmured, mind already whirring to come up with something with as little holes as he could. Techno stood up, brushed off his pants, and led the way down the spiraling stairs, Wilbur trailing dutifully behind him. If he accidentally left a little trail of gold on the wall where the end of his coat dragged, neither of them mentioned it.

True to Techno’s word, there was a faint  _ tap-tap-tap _ from the lower ravine, where Tommy was presumably chipping away at the stone. Either that, or it was a spider who decided it liked the light from their home a little better than down in the depths. Wilbur’s story was only half-baked at that point, so he hoped Tommy would stay down there. (Who was he kidding, Tommy was going to come up there the moment he heard their voices.)

“Hey, Tommy!” Techno called out rather suddenly from the bottom of the stairs, making Wilbur jump and press against the wall, “C’mon up here and help me fix Wilbur’s nose!” The tapping stopped for only a second before Tommy exclaimed “ _ What? _ ” and scrambled up their makeshift ladder to get to the top. Wilbur shot Techno a positively murderous glare. The elder god’s usual wall of apathy was briefly broken by a smirk before it disappeared once again.

Techno seemed to be the cleanest person there, Wilbur thought belatedly once Tommy finally clawed his way onto the platform, despite the man’s mud-caked pants and hands and greasy hair. Tommy was covered in a layer of dust, dirt, and a little bit of redstone, eyes wild and bloodshot under his shaggy hair. A little part of Wilbur wanted to sit him down right then and there and chop it off so the poor boy could at least see.

“Will!” Tommy chirped, tossing his pickaxe to the side and shedding what looked like Techno’s coat ( _ Oh, so he would give it to  _ Tommy _ , but not Wilbur. Figures. _ ). “Where’d you go, big man? 

Me ‘n Techno’ve been holding down the fort all alone!”

“The Nether,” Wilbur replied, hoping he didn’t say it too fast. “I would’ve stayed out for longer, but I kind of…” He waved at his nose. Tommy gave him his usual crooked grin and strode over.  _ God _ that kid was getting tall.

“Got your nose punched in, huh? What happened?”

“Piglins caught me mining some gold, tried to take it back and punched me right in the fucking face. First it was just the jaw, but when they saw the melted bits in my hands, they went to town. It bloody  _ hurts _ .”

“Sure you deserved it.” Tommy gave him a rather rough clap on the shoulder, but his grin was easy, so Wilbur knew he wasn’t upset that he had left without warning. Not waiting for a response, he turned to Techno and asked, “Bandages in the chest, yeah?”

“Yup,” Techno replied, popping the p. He was eyeing Wilbur, but the god of music couldn’t tell why, so he just gave Techno a thumbs-up. That seemed to appease him, as he snorted and shook his head before following Tommy to the chests.

By the time Wilbur gave himself a shake and followed after them, Tommy had already gathered up all the available bandages in his arms and was arguing with Techno about who was going to do it. 

“Tommy, do you even know  _ how _ to fix a broken nose?”

“Well, not really, but-!”

“Then let me do it! I know how!”

“Exactly! If you let me do it, you can teach me how! And then I’ll know for the next time I break my own nose! Or someone else breaks theirs!”

“He has a point there, Techno,” Wilbur chimed in. Techno rounded on him, face scrunched up in mild annoyance, before swiping a roll of bandages out of Tommy’s arms (much to Tommy’s chagrin, who squawked in outrage), only to chunk them at Wilbur’s head, hitting him right above the ear. “Hey! Don’t assault the injured man!” Wilbur laughed, picking it up off the ground and tossing it back to Tommy, who maneuvered so it would land back in the messy pile.

“Tommy was right, you did deserve that piglin attack. Keep this shit up and another bipedal pig is gonna deck you.”

Tommy did his usual loud cackle, throwing back his head and almost stumbling over a rock formation in the process. Wilbur shook his head fondly, sitting down on the end of the stairs once Tommy got steady again. 

Tommy crouched down in front of him, bandages on the ground next to his feet, a look of exaggerated determination on his face. “C’mon, Mr. Blade, get over here and show me what the fuck I gotta do so Wilbur doesn’t end up with a witch’s nose or something.”

With a heavy sigh, Techno joined Tommy’s side, though he chose to remain standing, one hand on Tommy’s shoulder while the other hooked his waist sash. “Alright, well, for starters, we gotta reset his nose.”

“Huh?”

“Shove it back into place. You wanna do it?”

“Techno, come on,” Wilbur whined, cutting in again, “You do it. Tommy might mess up and fuck it up even more, it’s his first time doing this. No offense, Tommy.”

“None taken, big man. I get what you mean, I wouldn’t want me to do it either,” Tommy replied with a wave.

“ _ Fine _ ,” Techno groaned. With practiced ease, he reached out, gripped Wilbur’s nose, and gave it a jerk to the right. It crunched rather loudly (right next to Tommy, unfortunately, causing the boy to flinch back, face scrunched in disgust), sending a fresh flow of gold down his face. Wilbur’s hand twitched at the pain, but it was soon back to the same throb as before. 

“Well, that was horrible,” Tommy muttered, shaking his head a few times. 

Techno huffed. “You weren’t even the one it happened to, shut up.”

“Make me,” Tommy retorted. Wilbur blinked a couple of times in surprise. Techno raised an unamused eyebrow. Tommy began to sweat.

“I mean… uh… Yes Mr. Blade!” Tommy did a sloppy salute, adding on his usual awkward giggle for good measure. Techno just rolled his eyes and kicked a bandage roll over to him. 

“Alright, your turn, Sir Innit, knowledgeable on all that is wise, how do you think we’re gonna do this?”

Tommy faltered at that. “Uh… Hmm... “ He squinted down at the ground for a few moments before picking up the bandages. “Wrap his nose so it can heal in place without moving around?”

“Bingo,” Wilbur tried to say. It was kind of hard to tell through the blood flow. He tried to make sure Tommy understood through a thumbs-up and a smile. The smile was also kind of hard to understand.

Techno swatted him on the back of the head, which,  _ ow _ , rude, before nodding at Tommy. “Yep. Sometimes we can splint it, but unless one of you wants to go out into the rain to get a wet stick or magically has one laying around somewhere down here, we’re just gonna have to wrap it for the night.”

“No sticks here, big man.”

“No sticks.”

“Alright then. Tommy, go to the chest real quick and get something soft, like some cloth or whatever.”

“Got some gauze already,” Tommy replied, picking it up with a disproportionate amount of pride for his apparent thoughtfulness, for once.

“Nice. Now, what you’re gonna wanna do is just get the gauze over the bridge of his nose, as tight as you can without hurting him, then we’re gonna have to put some bandages on first to just hold it down before wrapping it around his head once or twice to make sure it doesn’t, y’know, fall off as soon as we let go.” Wilbur was pretty sure that was the most he had ever heard Techno say to Tommy in one go. And all for him, aww, how sweet.

“Sounds easy enough!” A pause, and then, “What’s the catch?”

Techno snorted and moved his hand from his shoulder to his hair, rustling it a bit. Wilbur was seriously going to cut it as soon as they got done. “No catch. Should be easy for you. If you can break a ten-story fall with a single bucket of water, you can  _ definitely _ fix a broken nose.”

“That was pretty cool when I did that, wasn’t it?” Tommy bragged. “Tubbo thought I wasn’t gonna be able to do it, he said I was going to, and I quote, ‘shatter my legs like glass’, but I said-” And then he was off on a tangent, rambling about the probably exaggerated story of how he caught himself with the water. 

//

“Hey, Tommy,” Wilbur mumbled through a very-clogged voice, “Sit down and lemme cut your hair.”

  
“Absolutely  _ not _ , what the fuck is wrong with you! My hair is fine as is! ”  
  


"Come on, just sit down, Techno, gimme your knife-"  
  


" _No, get the fuck away from me and my hair!_ "

**Author's Note:**

> might fuck around and write a second part about this, who knows, who knows.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Swimming is a life skill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438628) by [Tiramasu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiramasu/pseuds/Tiramasu)




End file.
